Football Can Kill You
by Midst Ride
Summary: At that moment, Joe’s face exploded in pain and it registered with his brain that his coach had hit him. Abuse, his face cried. After a glance at his coach, he said nothing, and left the room, his hand covering his face, his head tilted in shame.
1. Chapter 1

Joe nervously walked into the coach's office. It had been a superb game. There were no major injuries, and there weren't really any minor injuries, if you didn't count the six-inch bruise on Biff's foot from where he was "accidentally" kicked in the game. He had no idea why the coach was calling him into the office – he had done nothing wrong.

If it had been the old coach, it would have been to congratulate him, but the new one hated his guts. If Frank hadn't said something earlier when he fumbled the ball, he'd probably have been benched the whole game. He nervously pulled on the string on his hoodie. "Hey, coach," he said, entering the room. "What's up?"

"You fumbled the ball tonight." Mr. Troy was obviously upset. The old coach was more it's-a-fun-and-game type coach. While he took both winning and loosing seriously, he didn't kill the players for their mistakes. The new coach, though…

"I'm s-sorry, coach. I had already run two touchdowns, and I was tired. I'll try not to let it happen again." Joe groaned. so much for his "I didn't do anything wrong" approach.

"Don't get tired," the coach snapped, grabbing Joe's shoulders and pushing him back into the wall. "Running two touchdowns shouldn't make you tired, Hardy!"

"I had already r-run the forty practice laps you said to, sir." Joe swallowed nervously. He didn't like where this was going.

"Don't backtalk to me," the coach said, threateningly raising his voice. Joe winced as the coach raise his hand – and hit him in the face. "Never, never, never backtalk to me."

"I'm s-sorry," Joe stuttered, still in shock that the coach had shoved him into the wall. It hadn't registered with his brain that his coach had hit him.

"Stop stuttering like a baby, too," the coach said. "It makes you sound like a pathetic, useless wimp. Go. I'll see you at practice tomorrow. Bring running shoes."

"But practice isn't again until Friday – school rules," Joe said, confused.

"I make the rules in my office, Joseph, not everyone else. How do you think the big stars make it? They practice each day they're alive even if they're limping like hell and tired and sweaty. I expect you to be in here, straight after school. And I expect running shoes."

At that moment, Joe's face exploded in pain and it registered with his brain that his coach had hit him. _Abuse_, his face cried. After a glance at his coach, he said nothing, and left the room, his hand covering his face, his head tilted in shame.

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At home, he put the icepack firmly on his cheek. He was terrified! Why did his coach want him to "practice" tomorrow?

He had to tell someone. However, he knew if he did, he would dropped from the team, and he couldn't afford that.. He was already afraid that he was going to be dropped from the team as it was. The only alternative was to keep his mouth shut and hope things got better.

"Hey, Joe, how are you?" Frank asked as he walked downstairs. "You came home late from practice. I was worried."

"I'm okay," Joe said slowly, making sure his cheek was covered. "Awesome job, Frank."

"Thanks, you too," he replied, "two touchdowns is awesome, and you really got us on the scoreboard there!"

"Nah. I mean, yeah, it's okay, but I made a bunch of mistakes… But thanks anyway. Hey, Coach wants me to stay tomorrow for practice." Joe glanced at Frank, wondering what he'd say.

"Tomorrow? There's no practice tomorrow. Right?" Frank asked, confused. "Did I get my dates wrong?"

Joe chuckled at Frank's confusion. "No, relax, you didn't. I know there's no practice tomorrow. He – coach – said he wanted to help me on techniques," Joe said, although he shuddered at what was going to probably happen.

Frank didn't notice, which made Joe want to cry. Frank was supposed to notice, ask what was wrong, and then reassure him what had happened wasn't his fault. "Okay, call me when you need a ride home. I'll pick you up," Frank said.

At 16 and a half, Frank had just gotten his driver's license. Of course, he already had a car, too. He'd been saving up money, both Christmas and birthday, since he was 12. Their parents had pitched in the rest (and they'd paid _way_ more than Frank had).

Joe was 15, and close to getting his temps. Even when he got the temps, he wouldn't be able to drive unless Fenton or Laura took him. "Looking forward to driving more?"

"Oh, yeah. I've got a big trip to Miami planned to see the Sugarcoat Rudes."

"You hate the Sugarcoat Rudes," Joe protested.

"Glad you caught on. At last, someone pays attention. 'Sides, I'm not sure how much I'm allowed to drive out of state."

"Point taken." Joe smiled at Frank, trying to see if he knew something was up.

Clearly, he didn't. "I've got a date with Callie Friday – will you need a ride then?"

"No, I don't think so," Joe said, praying he was right. "I'll be fine. Go enjoy your date, don't worry about me, you old person."

"_Old_ person! If I'm old, then what are you?" Frank demanded.

"Young at heart," Joe chuckled. He stood up, being sure to keep the ice on his cheek. "I think I'm going to go to bed now," he said, moving past Frank and up the stairs.

When he finally got to his bedroom, he sobbed quietly into his pillow. He knew what was going to happen next would be an uphill battle, and he also knew that he wouldn't like it one bit.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks for all the reviews. Yes, both Frank and Laura are a small bit OCC in this fic. (out of character). Please continue to review. _

Joe walked the long hallway to the coach's office. He used to love this walk – it meant school was out and football was on. Now, he dreaded it. Ever since Mr. Troy had hit him, he hadn't been himself. His mother had asked him at breakfast if he was feeling okay. He lied and said "yes".

"Enter," Mr. Troy said as Joe knocked on the door. Then he looked at Joe. "Good. You're here."

"Did I have a choice?" Joe retorted, crossing his arms.

"Hey, you keep talking to me like that and you'll be benched," Mr. Troy said. "All-right, Joe, thirty laps. Give 'em to me now. You fall down once and you start over."

"This is crazy," Joe said with a shake of his head. "That's like forty-five miles!"

"You get tired to easily," the coach said. "You need to had a long-winded energy. Like Frank. Now, get on the field!"

"Coach, this is cra--," Joe started to say, but again, the coach grabbed him and shoved him up against the wall.

"Get. Out. There. And. Start. Running." With that, he dropped Joe to the ground and went to sit at his desk. "What're you waiting for, you worthless piece of crap? Get out there!"

Joe sighed as he tied his shoe and started running. Mr. Troy was scaring him. The old coach didn't believe in violence. Oh, sure, he didn't mind talking the other team, or anything football. But as far as hitting anyone? Never. That would be violence.

He knew he had to tell someone – but who and how? The obvious answer would be to tell Frank, but Frank was worried about his GPA (it was only 3.9), and besides that they had some legwork for their dad's case.

The coach had been acting weird long before the practice season started, calling Joe names like "a worthless piece of crap", "a good-for-nothing mess", and he used other various insults that chilled Joe. He'd made Joe stay later and run laps, but he'd never hit Joe before, and that scared Joe.

Awhile back, Joe and Frank had done some research for a case they'd taken from their dad. He had found out a lot more about abuse then he'd ever wanted to know. He knew now it could start from a single punch, and that was what terrified him more than anything.

"I saw you stumble, Hardy!" the coach yelled when Joe was on lap 12. "Start over!"

"I didn't fall!" Joe yelled back, angry at the coach.

"Don't backtalk to me, Hardy!"

Joe groaned as he started over at 0. He had to tell someone. This was getting crazy.

On lap 23, he collapsed, and couldn't get up. The coach yelled at him, but when Joe still wouldn't get up, he came out there.

"You weakling," the coach spat. "I'll bet Frank could get all fifty laps before collapsing." He grabbed Joe's arm and pulled him up. "Go home," he said, "and come back tomorrow. Be prepared to run forty."

"Coach," Joe said gasped, "you know you have to be careful how many laps we run in-between breaks. There are rules."

"I don't care about the rules. Remember, I set the rules - you need to not be a wimp. Get out of my sight. Come back tomorrow." He glanced at Joe's shoes and sighed. "And Hardy, get yourself a damn pair of running shoes."

"But coach—," Joe started to say, looking down at his feet. He had running shoes.

"I don't want Nikeys running on my track," Mr. Troy said. "And don't give me that 'we don't have money' bull. Your family has more money than anyone I know."

Joe's stomach was hurting as he limped out of the room. He couldn't believe how far he'd gone. The track was 1.5 miles, so when the coach was asking him to run 30 laps, it was actually somewhere around 45 miles. To have to start over at lap 23, and run 12 more, meant he had gone about 52 and ½ miles. He was seriously limping – and very dehydrated. The coach hadn't allowed him to have any water.

He grabbed the bottle of water and guzzled it, standing next his locker. He knew that this was wrong. This was very, very wrong. He couldn't keep lying; it made him feel sick to his stomach. But how would he be able to tell?

Frank respected Mr. Troy, as did his father (even though his father had arrested Mr. Troy's son on assault and kidnapping charges a long time before).

Besides, Joe reasoned with himself, it wasn't as if he'd done anything "wrong" yet. Sure, he'd hit Joe and shoved him into the wall twice, but that wasn't really wrong. Football players teased each other like that a lot.

He could drop out, but he didn't want his dad to be disappointed in him. His father, from the very start of the boys' football career, had always said, "I'll love you no matter how well – or how poorly – you'll do."

It always felt like Frank was constantly outscoring Joe in everything, though. As much as he hoped it wasn't true, it also felt like his dad loved Frank more – a lot more. They always got to go on big, fancy trips, but Joe's were always being canceled at the last minute due to his fathers' work with the UN. He could count on one hand the number of times his father had taken a trip with him that wasn't business, whereas within the last year his father had taken at least 5-6 trips with Frank.

It wasn't as though he resented his father; he actually loved him a lot and felt pride that Fenton Hardy – "that famous PI dude" – was his dad. He just wished his dad would spend more time with him…. a lot more time with him.

One of the reasons why Joe stayed in football was because his father came to almost every game. It was one of the few times he'd see him.

Breathing deeply, Joe knew he needed to stay in football, no matter what happened.


	3. Chapter 3

_Woah! I never expected this story to get this many reviews. Thanks so much! Please keep reviewing, it means a lot!  
Thanks to everyone who glanced at the story. Please, please continue to review. It means so much. Does happy dance_

_OK, enough about me -- it's time to read the story. That is what you're here for, right? _

TWO WEEKS LATER

"Hey, Joe, where'd you get that bruise on your arm?" Frank asked, curious. He knew Joe had been sacked in football several times, but he couldn't remember him getting hit in the arm.

Joe shrugged. "Come on, Frank, you know me. I attract bruises like the plague. I guess I just got it in football or something."

Frank frowned, but didn't say anything as he resumed eating his cereal. "Looking forward to football today?"

"As long as I don't have to run any laps." Joe didn't say anything, but the coach had held him after practice the other day to run another 50 laps. Joe had collapsed on lap 49 from exhaustion, and the coach had locked him in the closet for an hour, calling him a weakling. He said if Joe couldn't run 50 laps by the weekend, he was benching him for the entire game.

It scared Joe, because Joe desperately wanted to play. His dad was supposed to watch that game – and Joe wanted to show his dad some of the new moves he'd learned. But if he couldn't get the laps…

"I need to do something after practice today. I'll be home around six, maybe later," Joe told his mom as she walked into the kitchen.

"Okay, honey. No later then 11 at the latest, you know the rules. Hey, good job on your report cards yesterday, boys," Laura said. She was very proud of both her boys; they tried very hard to do well in school.

Joe visibly flinched. He wasn't looking forward to tomorrow; he'd have to show his dad his report card. While Frank had gotten all A's and finally pulled his average up to 4.0, Joe had gotten only five A's and one A-. Though he didn't resent his brother for his success, he again felt outshined.

He had to do well in the football game tomorrow. He _had _to get his dad to notice him.

LINE

The coach sighed as Joe entered the room. "Joseph, you have two chances before Friday to run those laps. If you can't, I'm afraid I'll just have to bench you for the game. Are we clear?"

Joe nodded. "Sir, I thought you said I got to try –," he stopped as he noticed Mr. Troy glaring at him. (Joe had finally learned his first name was 'Mark' when he was locked in the closet yesterday).

"Don't tell me what you thought I said, Hardy, tell me what you know I said. Don't backtalk to me. Now go get out there and run those damn laps well I do this paperwork."

Joe tied up his shoes – which were not Nike's – and headed out to the track. He had to run the 75 miles today – Fenton wouldn't allow him to go tomorrow, late. Or at least, he'd want to know why.

LINE

_4 hours later_

Just one more step, Joe encouraged his feet. He had run almost all 75 miles and was feeling at the top of his game. he knew he had run very, very fast for the first part and slowed down on the last part.

As he crossed the finish line, he was relieved. He was careful not to fall as he limped to the coach's door. "I made it, coach."

The coach glanced at him, surveying him seriously. "Joseph, I don't like doing this either, you know. But I just can't have a weakling on my team." He rose slowly, and Joe's face visibly paled.

"Oh, you're still on the team," the coach said. "But it'll take some sacrifice. Some blood, sweat, and tears – and more effort than I'm seeing now." He handed Joe a bottle of water. "I understand your father is coming home from the UN tomorrow?"

Joe nodded slowly, wondering where the coach was going with this.

"You will not tell him about the extra help you have been given." He smiled. "I'm sure your dad won't appreciate having a weakling as a son." He grabbed Joe's arm, and pulled him towards the closet. "When is your mother expecting you home?"

"Six," Joe said, suddenly paralyzed. He'd been running since three thirty; it was almost seven thirty now. His mom was going to kill him.

The coach glanced at him, and said, "When is the latest she said you could be home?"

"Eleven," Joe said, knowing he couldn't lie. The coach would just as soon call home to find out, and then he'd be in more trouble.

"Great. You can stay here while I finish my paperwork. Let me make sure you learned this lesson." The coach opened the door, shoved Joe in, and quickly locked the teen boy inside.

_line_

TWO HOURS LATER

Frank sighed as he glanced at his watch. "Mom, you said Joe should be home at six, right?"

"I said Joe 'should' be home at six," she corrected. "He doesn't have to be until 11. He's fine, honey."

"I know, I know. I just can't shake the feeling that something's wrong. I can't reach him on his cell."

"You worry too much, Frank," Laura said. "Either that, or you're dying for a mystery."

"Sometimes I just want to kill the kid, though! I told him to leave his cell phone on all the time, because I'll never know when I need to reach him."

"Like now?"

"Yes, like now! I'm supposed to leave for surveillance at 12. If he's late, I have to go alone, or not at all. I'm not sure which is worse."

"Frank, when were you planning on telling me about this surveillance project?"

"I wasn't planning on sneaking out of my room, Mom. I learned my lesson. Dad said he'd call you."

"He hasn't yet," Laura said, "but don't worry. He's on his way home early."

"Good. Surprise for Joe."

"Surprise," Fenton said, entering the doorway to the living room. "How are you guys?"

"Dad!" Frank smiled, getting up from off the couch. "I'm glad you could make it back."

"Me, too. Can't wait to see you guys face off against the Treks tomorrow. It's going to be a tough game."

"Sure is." Frank smiled as he thought of the success they'd had last time against the Treks, Bayport's archrivals. "How did the meeting with the UN go?"

"Sorry, Frank, you don't have the security clearance to know," Fenton laughed.

"Thanks, Dad, I waited fifteen days for you to get home and I get 'I don't have the security clearance.'"

"You're welcome," Fenton said, returning Frank's smile.

The ride in the car was silent as the coach pulled into Hardy's driveway. "So, why were you late tonight?"

Joe bit on his lip, trying desperately to not scream. "I went to the park, talked to some people I knew there, went for ice cream, went to the arcade. I didn't realize how late it was getting, so I walked home."

"Why are you limping?"

"I tripped over a brick, and fell down."

"Why are you so tired?"

"I didn't get enough sleep last night."

"Where did you get the scar on your back?"

"A long time ago… I'm surprised nobody noticed." Joe wanted to cry at the last one. He'd managed to pick the lock on the closet, but the coach had noticed. Mark had grabbed Joe's legs, tacked him, and "accidentally" stabbed him with the nearby pair of scissors.

"And why was Coach Troy bringing you home?"

"I was running late, you asked if I needed anything, said 'I'm going your direction' and offered a ride."

The coach smiled. "Leave," he said, as Joe exited the car.

"Thank you," Joe mumbled as he grabbed his key. In his haste, he failed to notice Fenton's car.

As he opened the door, he was surprised to notice Frank sitting in the doorway. "Where were you?" he demanded, jumping up.

"Sorry," Joe apologized automatically. "I went to the park, I ran into a couple of old friends; we got ice cream, went to the arcade. You know me, Frank. I ran late."

"Why didn't you answer your phone? It's nearly 10! I was getting worried."

"Forgot it," Joe said, blushing.

"I'm glad you're home," Frank admitted. "You worried me."

"Guess where I left my watch, Frank?"

"At home, on your bed."

"You know me – I have absolutely no since of time," Joe said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Joe, relax. I was getting worried because we have a stakeout at midnight."

"That's right," Joe muttered, more to himself than to Frank. "I'm sorry, Frank. I should have been home sooner."

"It's okay," he said. "I'm not mad, Joe, really, relax. Breathe deeply. Anyway, Dad's home, so he and Sam have it covered."

"Good," Joe replied. Stakeouts were risky and boring. "Then I'm gong to sleep."

"You look exhausted, Joe."

"Thanks, Frank. I'm ok. I just didn't get enough sleep last night."

Frank frowned as Joe went upstairs. Joe was worrying Frank, even though he'd never admit it.


	4. Chapter 4

_Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews! Since this chapter is kind-of short, I'll go ahead and post it now. _

_Thanks so much. Enjoy. The action should start picking up soon - if Frank listens to his gut, that is... _

Oh, yeah. That reminds me. A new character here: Chan. He plays a minor, yet big, role in the story. :) Read on!

Chapter 4

Frank clicked on his Livejournal account, typing in his username and password. He was keeping a bunch of data on Joe so he could keep an eye on how Joe's mood and behavior changed. Perhaps his father was right, it was just Joe being a teenager. Just the same…

"Late, 10. Forgot about .05 tonight. Said he was sleepy, even though he rested today until nearly seven – almost missed the bus. Went to bed last night as soon as he came home from practice. Was wearing a different shirt."

Really, Frank didn't think anything bad was happening to Joe, but Joe was scaring Frank, and Frank was keeping track of Joe's behavior. He couldn't believe Joe hadn't remembered the stakeout. Joe loved mysteries! He was surprised his brother wasn't angry Fenton and Sam had taken over the stakeout. He didn't show any emotion that his dad was home, either; he just looked tired – really tired.

Suddenly, Frank heard a voice: _You'd be tired too, if you ran 18.75 miles an hour for four hours._

"Where did that come from?" Frank muttered. The voice was gone, though, and he ignored it. Shrugging it off, he realized he, too, was exhausted, and decided he'd like a long nap. Or a sleep, whichever came first.

_Line_

"Good job in the game today, Joe," Chan Tri said. He was one of Bayport's star runners, though he didn't actually score a lot of touchdowns. He was better off at handing the ball to Joe or Frank.

"Thanks. Not as good as Frank," Joe said automatically as he pulled on his pants. "You stopping at the pizzeria?"

Chan chuckled. "Sorry, my parents believe a strict diet of Chinese food is best."

"Don't pull that on me," Joe said with a grin. "I know you want to go."

Shrugging, Chan said apologetically, "Mr. Troy, I'm sure, has something for me to work on."

"Yeah, well, me too. So let's buzz off before he finds us. 'Sides, it's against the regulations for us to practice after a game." _Yeah, and we all know how well he follows them,_ Joe thought. "I can give you a ride, too, if you'd like."

"Sounds good." Chan pulled on his shirt. He glanced quickly at Joe's back, and was surprised that Joe had a scar shaped like his. "Hey, Joe, where you get that scar?"

Joe laughed, but inside he felt sick to his stomach. "I got it awhile ago. Long story."

"I have one just like it. Did a pair of scissors cause yours?"

Ignoring Chan, Joe tied his shoes. "Let's go," he said, looking at the ground. "Frank and everyone will be waiting."

"Good. I can use some of this pizza," Chan said with a smile. Inwardly, he frowned. He had a scar just like that, from scissors.

"There's Troy," Joe muttered under his breath. "Ten o'clock. Race you to the door?"

"Sounds good," Chan replied, "five seconds is my usual time. Let's go."

_Line_

The two boys raced towards the door. Luckily, Troy didn't notice them; he was too busy thinking of the win that he had.

It was good, but not good enough. They could've won by at least ten points. Joe had fumbled the ball once, but not on a major play; he was lucky Troy didn't let him off the team now for it, though.

"This is getting bad," he muttered to himself. "I've got to win by ten points at least once, or I'll be dropped."

He smiled, suddenly realizing that things were under his control.


	5. Chapter 5

_Just for the heck of it, I decided to throw in another udpate today. If I find 5 or more reviews in my inbox tommorow, I'll throw in an update tommorow as well. You're all so great, I just had to pay you back with an update. Please continue to review. It brings speedy updates.  
Like, three in one day._

_Me like feedback! _

_Oh, yeah._

_This one's a mite bit short as well._

Chapter 5

Five months later

"I said get off the ground, Hardy! You can do pushups faster than that. Get up off the ground!" the coach yelled. "Come on, what's the matter? All I asked for was two hundred pushups. Any weakling can do that, heck, my two-year-old daughter can do almost that many!"

Joe dropped his body to the ground. He'd been forced to run 35 laps, do 200 crunches, 200 sit ups, and now, 200 push-ups—all without a single drop of water. He knew what his problem was, but his coach, Mark Troy, just wasn't getting it.

"Come on, Hardy. You. Are. A. Wimp."

Wincing as he heard the word 'wimp,' Joe allowed himself to be dragged to the nearby closet and locked inside. Luckily, he'd hidden a bottle of water in there.

Football practice was over and the games had begun. Five, so far, had been underway. Bayport and the surrounding area stretched it out too one game a month, and then four games the last month of the school year as a devision tie.

So far, their devision hadn't lost a game. In fact, the last one they'd won by 20 points – 14 of which were scored by Joe. Still, it wasn't good enough for the coach, and Joe found himself being called in for "extra" practice.

Though his dad had a lull in his cases, he hadn't noticed Joe's new routine. He believed the lies the coach had drilled into Joe's head, and he even offered to take him to practice. Joe was starting to resent his father, even though he knew his father knew nothing about the ongoing abuse.

Oh, and what abuse it had turned into! The coach called him in twice a week for extra practice, though Joe never told Frank that was where he was going. The coach would make him run laps (if he fell, he started over), do sit-ups, push-ups, crunches… that wasn't actually so bad. Being locked in the closet was somewhat of a relief.

What scared Joe was when the man was nearly drunk. Beer wasn't allowed on the school property, but he knew the man had a stash anyway. He'd drink cans after practice, and if Joe ticked him off, he'd be brutally beaten. Joe came home with various scars, but nobody noticed; the coach took the precaution to hide them all very well.

It was getting out of control. Joe knew Frank suspected "something was up", but the coach had said that if he told anyone Frank would be kidnapped and tortured.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door, and Joe glanced up, wondering who on earth it could be. "Hi, Fenton," the coach said, and Joe felt his heart rise with hope. "How are you?"

"Not too good, actually." Joe could hear Fenton sit down in the chair in front of the coach's desk. "My son was supposed to come straight home today; we're planning his mother's birthday party for tomorrow. It's now eight o'clock, and I have no idea where he is. Until I talked to Frank and found out that he has had 'extra practice' from you."

"Exactly what are you implying?" Mark demanded. Joe could picture the man crossing his arms in anger, and winced. It took all his control not to yell, Dad, I'm right here, I'm right here!

"I am implying," Fenton said coolly, "that you know where my son is. And I'd like to know that same information."

"You know teenagers, Fenton. They sometimes run off and do stupid things. I haven't seen Joe at all today."

"Then you won't mind if I take a look around now," Fenton replied, "because otherwise I'll come back – with search warrants."

"Go ahead," Mark replied, leaning on his desk, "you won't find anything. I hope you find your son, really, I do. Have you checked at his friend's houses?"

"Yes, of course. That was the first place I checked," Fenton said, glaring at Mark.

"Who knows, Joe could have known this. He's been a little off in practice lately, as well. I wish you luck finding him," the coach said as he ushered Frank and Fenton out the door.


	6. Chapter 6

_I am so sorry I did not get this out yesterday. There was a glitch, and I could not get on to update. I apologize. _

_Midst Ride_

_(PPS. By way of apology, if I get 5 new reviews, I'll put up chapter 7 today.) _

_Sorry, guys. Thanks for all the encouraging, uplifting reviews. :) _

Chapter 6

Frank sighed as he paced the hallway. It was taking Joe forever to get back. He knew Joe often lost track of time, but Joe almost kept his promises. The old Joe, anyway, had. The first thing they had done was to question Mark, but Mark, of course, had denied the claims and now Frank wasn't sure where on earth Joe was. His father was working on search warrents for Mark's house and office now.

Suddenly, the door rang, and Frank raced to answer it. "Joe! Where on earth were you?" he asked. He didn't fail to notice Joe's physical condition and appearance.

"Coach's." Joe grunted. "Extra – practice. Has… To… stop."

"Whoa, buddy, let's get you upstairs and put some Neosporin on that gash, OK?"

Joe didn't protest, which scared Frank even more – normally Joe hated medicine or antibiotics. "Who did this to you, Joe?" he demanded. "You've been acting weird all the time. You've been going to extra practices and all this, and I know something is going on. Tell me, Joey, I promise, I'll believe you." He had gotten to putting the medication on Joe's arm before Joe spoke again.

"I had to run… a hundred laps," Joe said. He was still clearly out of breath. "Coach made me stay after. I can't take this anymore, Frank! Can't even run a hundred laps!"

Knowing he was close to a breakthrough about what had really happened to Joe the last few months, Frank pushed a little bit. "Joe, what can't you take anymore? Tell me, Joe, please tell me. I promise, Joey, I'll listen."

"I can't take this anymore," Joe said. He glanced at Frank and saw the firmness, the anger at whoever had done his, in Frank's eyes. Suddenly, a dam burst inside him and he started to cry. "I can't take this anymore, Frank! I hate this! I hate every single extra practice that the coach has put me through! I don't get hardly any practice unless I'm running! I'm so sick of him hurting me, Frank!"

Frank was not totally shocked at Joe's statement. He didn't like Mark Troy, the new Bayport High coach, nearly as much as the old dude. He had been keeping data on Joe for months, and knew that something was up, but he wasn't sure what.

"H-h-he," Joe sobbed, "h-h-he said he'd k-k-k-kill you if I-I told." Gulping back tears, it took Joe quite a few minutes before he could go on again.

"Joey, it's okay." Frank used Joe's childhood nickname, knowing it could calm him down. "Shh, Joey, it's okay."

"No, not okay," Joe said, trying to dry his tears. "Please, please don't say anything, he'll only hurt you!" Before Joe could say anything else, he passed out.

Though he was still in shock that he was right, Frank grabbed his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1. "Hey, I need a medic at 9595 Palm Street…"

_Line_

Joe was resting in the hospital bed. Though the coach had been arrested, he had not been charged with anything yet; that would happen in the morning, after Joe woke up and they could get more out of him.

Frank had had his suspicions about Mark Troy since he entered the building. Sure, he respected him as a coach, but he didn't trust him at all. Joe had been worrying him for the past six months, which was why he had pushed Joe when it looked like Joe was ready to talk.

"He'll be fine," Fenton said, resting his hand on Frank's shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I suspected," Frank muttered, "from day one. I never trusted Mark Troy. I have a diary filled with suspicions. That's how I knew to go to him when Joe didn't show up."

"Frank, would you mind if I saw the diary?" Fenton asked, looking at his eldest with more respect. Though he'd been home the last six months, he hadn't noticed anything unusual in Joe's behavior, except that he came home late all the time.

"No, I wouldn't. I have it right here," Frank said, pulling out his laptop Laura had brought him. Laura was finally sleeping. She'd been up since last night at six, and her body had said, "OK, I'm tired."

"On your laptop?"

"Livejournal is a website where you can keep diaries," Frank said with a small smile. "I got one and kept track of Joe's behavior since he started coming home late or having extra practices."

Fenton sat down in the hospital chair next to Frank. "Look," Frank said, clicking on it. "Here are the entries from the first day until yesterday."

"Wow," Fenton said, his mouth dropping. His son had at least fifty pages of his observations. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I never had any hard proof. If I mentioned something to Joe, he would deny it and look terrified. I tried following Joe, but he knows my shadow, and it was easy for him to throw me off."

Fenton shook his head in disbelief as Frank stood up. "I'm going to go get a soda," he said, sensing his dad needed some time alone to look at the diary eateries. "Want anything?"

"Warm coffee. Black," Fenton said with a smile, handing Frank the money from his pocket. "Take your time. Bring me it when you're done."

"Jeez, Dad, one time of getting cold coffee when I'm twelve and I can't be trusted?"

"Not with important things – like coffee," Fenton replied with a smile.

"Thanks, I feel so much better," Frank chuckled as he put the money in his pocket. He had hoped his suspicions were wrong, that Mark really hadn't been abusing Joe. Now, however, it looked like he was right.

What he was really angry about was that he should have told his father about his suspicions. Now, because he didn't, Joe was badly injured, and it was his fault.

Out in the cafeteria, he met Tony, Chet, Callie, Vanessa, and Chan, Joe's friend. "Hey, guys," he said, setting down his soda and chicken sandwich. "How are you?"

"Worried about Joe," Chan said. "Is he going to be okay?"

"He's survived a bomb, Chan, he'll be fine," Tony said with a chuckle.

Chan still looked worried, so Frank said, "Yes, Chan, he'll be fine. He just needs some time to recover."

Vanessa spoke up. "What's the coach going to be charged with?"

"We're not totally sure on that one yet," Frank replied. "Possibly abuse, though if we can't prove that Mark has been abusing Joe repeatedly, it might have to be assault."

"Why would the coach suddenly assault Joe like that and lock him in the closet?" Chet demanded. "Please don't take me wrong. I know Joe's not lying. But why would he? It seems stupid to charge him with assault."

"I'm not sure," Frank replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. "There's a lot we still have to work out." He glanced at Callie, noticing his girlfriend hadn't spoken up yet. "Are you all right, Callie?"

"I'm exhausted, Frank, and angry at Mark. You want my honest opinion?" she asked, suddenly looking worried. "I think this might have been going on for awhile. I mean, I've been taking the psychology class at Bayport University for awhile, and I don't think this was sudden."

"Agreed, but until Joe wakes up, we have no hard proof. I, too, think this has been going on for a while. Joe's had some really funny 'disappearances' lately. He'll be gone for hours at a time, without a phone call. And yes, I know Joe does that sometimes, but not all the time. He's been leaving his cell phone home a lot more, and you know how much he loved that thing when he got it for his 15th birthday."

Sighing, Chan glanced at his teacup, feeling a little responsible. "Frank, how long until the doctor says Joe will wake up?"

"They have him sedated right now, because they had to operate on him. It should be soon, though, why?"

"When is the trial?"

"I don't know. Dad is in charge of all that. Chan, what's wrong?"

"If I tell you something, will you promise you believe me?" he asked in a small voice.

Everyone glanced his way, now suddenly very interested in what Chan had to say. Biff leaned forward and gave Chan a threatening glare.

"As long as it's not about aliens or other life forms," Frank said, glancing at Callie, who avoided his glance.

Chan took a deep breath. "I don't think it's assault, Frank, I think it's child abuse."

With that, Chan pulled off his long-sleeve shirt, leaving Frank and the others speechless.


	7. Chapter 7

_Thanks for everyone who read and reviewed, and thanks to those who read. Okay, the boys' house is on palm street sine I didn't know what was the proper place before. As for Chet knowing how Joe was locked in the closet, assume Frank told them everything that he knew. Thanks! Please read and review._

Thanks for the review,  
Midst Ride

Chapter 7

Phil was the first to find his voice. "Chan, where did all those bruises come from?" he asked.

"The coach," Chan admitted, looking at the ground, ashamed. "He—he's been hitting me for awhile. Sometimes, he will make me stay after practice, and run laps, sometimes fifty or seventy at a time. I can never complete either, and when I don't, he gets mad."

"Seventy laps?" Chet burst out. "That's an outrage. That's, like, a hundred and five miles! The coach can't make you do that!"

"You're saying the coach abuses you?" Biff said, his mouth dropping open, noticing the bruises on Chan's arms. "You always said that those came from practice. You even used to rib me about how much I hurt you!"

"I apologize," Chan said, blushing, "but my parents questioned me often, and the coach always said that if I told anyone, those who I cared about most would die."

"Then why are you telling us now?" Callie demanded. "No offence, Chan, I believe you and all, but what's to keep people from thinking that this isn't a bunch of hogwash?"

"You are welcome to ask Joe. Once the coach had us both at the same time. He refused to give us water until we had run sixty laps without falling. Joe tripped on the 23rd lap, so he locked us in the closet. I am telling now only because the coach is locked up… and I trust you all to keep this a secret."

"A lap is 1.5 miles," Phil said, nodding towards Vanessa and Callie.

"Chan, I hate to ask this, but do you know of any others who where hurt?"

Chan was practically in tears now. He was trying hard to keep his composure, but Frank knew he was having trouble telling – as Joe no doubt would when he awoke. "No," he said. After a few minutes of silence, he dried the tears from his eyes. "I tell you this, Frank, so that you can use it as evidence to charge the coach."

"We should go tell my dad," he said, getting up and glancing apologetically at the gang. "I'll see you all later, guys, and let you know when Joe's ready for visitors."

"Thanks," every on replied in unison, except for Callie, who still sat, her head bent, ashamed about the aliens.

Frank was very shaken as he returned to the room with his father's warm, black coffee. Chan followed nervously, his eyes downcast. Frank knew Chan's family was very secretive, and didn't like to share their family secrets. "Hey, Dad," he said, pushing open the door of the room. "How is Joe?" he asked, handing Fenton the coffee.

"Not good. He woke up for awhile, but he overheard the coaches' name and started screaming, so the nurse had to sedate him. Who is this?" Fenton asked, nodding towards Chan, who was standing next to Frank.

"Chan," Frank said, "this is Dad. Dad, Chan. Dad, Chan has something to tell you."

Fenton glanced at Chan, not failing to notice the bruises on his arms. "Like maybe where those came from?" he asked, noticing the somber look on Frank's face.

Chan bit his tongue and said quietly, "The coach." He glanced at Frank and Fenton, and after neither made him stop speaking, he said, "Sir, with all due respect, what you really need to charge him with two counts of child abuse."

"What do you mean by child abuse, Chan?" Fenton asked. After reading Frank's journal, he could see that the coach had been abusing Joe for awhile, but he wanted to hear it from someone else as well.

"It is defined as 'abuse by a caretaker or someone responsible for the child,'" Chan replied. "Since Mr. Troy was responsible for us, that makes it child abuse."

"Chan, I want you to talk to me as if you were making a statement to the police. I want to know everything that happened between you and the coach."

Glancing nervously at Frank for support, Chan began. "It all started when Mr. Troy began coaching this season. We all loved our old coach, but nobody liked Mr. Troy. He singled me out from the beginning and had me run laps. Sometimes, I'd stay after practice and run laps – sometimes 50 or 75. Laps are 1.5 miles apiece. It progressed from that to running that many without water or food. Some days, I would stay after until 8 o'clock, because I tripped in the middle of the lap, and he'd either make me start over… or lock me in the closet. It progressed from that to him stabbing me with scissors or anything he could get his hands on. Sometimes," Chan said, stopping nervously at this point, "he'd hit me with his belt. He said I was a weakling, and would need to toughen up."

Fenton Hardy sat dumbfounded. "Chan, did you know that Joe was being abused?"

"Once the coach locked us in the closet together," Chan admitted, "but he threatened Frank, and Joe said, 'please don't tell my dad, he will never believe me.' I said, 'Joe, this is stupid… We need to tell someone.' He gave me the deadliest glare and said, 'Great, when you can get my dad to believe me, then tell me this.' He said he tried telling you before, but you did not listen."

"He never tried to tell me," Fenton protested, then sighed as he realized Chan's words were true. "Dammit, he did. Frank, I'll be back. Chan, stick close, we'll probably need you to testify."

"Testify?" Chan asked. He knew what it meant, but he didn't think he would have to.

"We'll put your family in protective custody, if there is need," Fenton reassured, and then left the room, angry at himself.

_Flashback_

_"Dad, I need to talk to you. It's about school," he added before Fenton could say "no"._

_"What is it, Joe? Do you need help in one of your classes?"_

_"No," Joe said with a shake of his head. "No, it's football."_

_"What's wrong?"_

_"The coach, Mark Troy—,"_

_"Joseph, I don't want to hear about to hear about it!" Fenton snapped. He knew the coach's methods were a little unusual, but nothing illegal. "He is a fair man and he has done nothing wrong."_

_"How do you know what I was going to say?" Joe demanded._

_"Frank has been muttering stuff about Mark Troy all weekend. I don't give a damn about what the man has done, he is your coach and he is to be respected."_

_"Yeah, well, I'm glad you know everything!" Joe sputtered, angry. "You could at least hear me out, but no, you can't even do that. Well, thanks, Dad. Thanks a lot."_

_"Don't take that tone with me, Joseph Hardy," Fenton demanded. "I don't want to hear about how the coach is anything. If you have a problem with him, you are welcome to drop football."_

_Stunned, tears pressed against Joe's eyes and he slammed the door._

_End Flashback_

He couldn't believe it. How could he have been so stupid? So completely and utterly stupid?

Sighing, he flipped open his cell phone. "Hey, Chief, what's up?"

"Not good news. We have three more boys here and they have been abused by the coach."

"Three more? That makes five, then," Fenton swore angrily. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"Five?" Chief Collig asked, and Fenton could picture him with his mouth dropping open. "Hold up –what do you mean, five?"


	8. Chapter 8

_Wow! Thanks for the amazing responce to chapter seven! Here's chapter eight. Wasn't planning on updating today, but hey, early present! I'll respond to all the reviews eventually, I promise! Oh, yeah! Major plot twist in this chapter ;)._

_Ok, I know things aren't going to be all believeable or all right, so sorry for that in advance. Hopefully you still get a kick outta of it, though. _

_Midst Ride_

Chapter 8

Joe was awake when Vanessa entered the room. Laura was at home, picking up Joe's stuff. "Hey, baby," she said, resting her head on his arm. "How are you?"

"Tired," Joe said hoarsely. "Really tired. Can I have some water?"

"Sure," she said, quickly pouring it into a cup and handing it to Joe. Quietly, she moved her cell phone and texted Frank: J Awake.

"Who you writing?" Joe asked, swallowing the water gratefully.

"Frank. He's been really concerned about you," Vanessa said. "He only went to the cafeteria because your mom made him get something to eat."

Joe chuckled. "Hospital food isn't that great," he said with a smirk, "so I feel sorry for him. Where are mom and dad?"

"Your mom's at home, getting you some clothes and things. Your father is at the police station."

"Why is he at the police station?" Joe asked, hoping that he knew the answer.

Vanessa hesitated for a second, then said, "He's talking to all the witnesses in your case, Joe."

"What do you mean by that?" Joe asked, intrigued.

"Joe, four other boys have stepped forward and said that Coach Mark Troy was abusing them. Do you know what you did?" Vanessa asked. She was embarrassed she hadn't realized what was happening to Joe sooner and it hurt every second, but she knew that it was not her fault. Or, at least, she was trying to convince herself that.

For the first time in days, Joe felt pure and utter relief. He'd never expected his dad to believe him. Frank, maybe, but not his dad. "He believes me?"

"Yes, he does," Vanessa said, not knowing that Joe had told before. "Since you told Frank, four other boys have stepped forward. Do you know what you did? You caused a rippling affect, Joe. People finally feel brave enough, like they'll be believed enough, to come forward about Mark Troy's abuse."

"Four others?" Joe was still in shock that his dad had believed him. He had tried to tell once before, but his father had only cut him off. "You mean that four others have told?"

"Yes, Joe. Four others have stepped forward with evidence and said, yes he is hurting me, and we want it to stop." Vanessa had indeed been shocked when Frank told her how many others came forward. None of them knew anyone else was, just Joe. He did warn Vanessa that Mark Troy had been able to post a 750,000 bond.

"Do you know who?" Joe asked, both repulsed and interested at the same time.

"Chan Tyi, Aerie Walks, Chassis Tran, and Daniel M," Vanessa said. Within the past few weeks, she'd come to really like Chan. Aerie Walks was known through his sister, Marshal Walks, who was "looking good", as she put it, for the valedictorian slot. Chassis Tran was the new guy in school. Occasionally, he sat with Joe's group, but he avoided most people like the plague. Daniel M played not only football, but also chess, and was extremely good at both.

Joe shook his head. "I knew about Chan, the coach locked us in the closet once together. Aerie Walks, Chassis Tran, and Daniel M are really good – they just never get enough playing time."

Vanessa shook her head. She couldn't believe what the coach had gotten away with. _And for so long_ – the coach _never_ should have been able to do what he did. Never. Of course, that didn't matter to the coach, who was hell-bent on winning.

"Where's Frank?" Joe asked, suddenly noticing his brother wasn't there.

"Getting something to eat, remember?" Vanessa replied. "I'm going to ring the nurse, and let her know you're awake. Maybe afterwards we can go to the cafeteria and find Frank."

_Line_

Frank was indeed in the cafeteria eating breakfast. When he finished, he stepped outside, eager to get a few minutes of fresh air before he went up to the hospital room. It was very stuffy, and he wanted to take a short walk.

Joe had woken up once or twice, but never long enough to talk. That was scaring him, even though he'd never admit it. Joe was the most talkative person he knew!

Sighing, he turned away, ready to go back into the hospital. Before he could, somebody grabbed his arm. "Where do you think you're going, Daniel?"

"I'm not Daniel," he said, tugging, not recognizing the voice at first. "You have the wrong guy, dude, back off."

A security officer came closer to the scene, noticing Frank's struggle. He didn't know who Frank was, or the other man, apparently. "Hi, can I help you?"

"I'm fine, officer," the man apologized, and Frank chilled as he recognized the cold voice of Mark Troy. "I'm just here picking up my son. He's been grounded for awhile, but he keeps trying to sneak out of the house. His name is Daniel."

_You can't believe him! This is Mark Troy! The guy who was arrested for child abuse! Yeah, Bayport High's coach! _

The officer turned to look at Frank, and Frank felt Mark squeeze his arm, hard, silently reminding him he could go in the hospital at any time – and get Joe instead. "Is this true?" he asked gravely.

Frank didn't answer. His mouth was dry. He suddenly found himself too nervous to speak up. He opted for looking at the ground.

"It's a serious offence to run away," the officer said to Frank. "You have to live with your dad, even if you don't like it. And you have to follow his rules. Are we clear?"

Frank nodded silently, refusing to say anything. He winced when he felt Mark pull on his arm again. This guy was strong.

"Good." The officer left, feeling as a job was well done.

Mark Troy snickered, a sickening sound, and Frank had to bite his tongue to keep from crying out when he heard his arm snap.


	9. Chapter 9

_Holy cow! Did not expect to get so many reviews. I am sorry that I didn't update Monday, however, with it being Labor Day I had no access to the internet, and Sunday I didn't either. So here's the next chapter. Thanks so much. Will respond to them each individually. Oh, by the way. Laura's a little occ; just to warn you. _

_Oh, hey! If you get a chance, go click on my profile page to vote on which story I should post next! _

Frank allowed himself to be dragged to the car. His only thoughts were fear that Mark Troy was going to go after Joe and a deep burning anger at the man who had caused this mess. "What are you doing?" he asked as he felt himself shoved to the ground, and then felt duct tape being wrapped around his hands.

"Shut up," Mark hissed. "Don't say a word. Understand? Don't say a word. You say one word and I'll go get your brother. Are we clear?"

With that, he closed the door and walked over to his door. Frank was terrified that the man would still walk back in and get Joe, so he clamped his mouth shut.

_Line_

"He's been gone a long time," Joe told Fenton. "Two hours. He left right before I woke up, and he's been gone two hours."

"I'm sure he's fine, he's pretty tired, Joe," Fenton replied. "But you're right, if he's not back in another hour or so I'll go get him."

"Joe!" Laura said with a relieved smile. "How are you, baby?" she asked, stepping into the room.

Fenton gave his head a quick shake no, to tell Joe not to say anything about Frank.

"Better," Joe said, still feeling somewhat uneasy around his mother. He didn't know why or understand it. She just made him nervous.

"Good," Laura said. She glanced at Fenton. "Can we talk real quick?"

Fenton glanced at her. "What's the matter?"

"I don't know what to do," she said with a frown. "I promised Gertrude six months ago that I'd go visit her aunt with her today and tomorrow, but I really don't want to leave Joe alone."

"Laura, Joe will be fine," Fenton reassured her. "I've watched the kids before."

"Yes, and you made them fish sticks every night until they started cooking by themselves. They were five, Fenton."

Fenton grimaced at the memory. "Laura, I'll bake some pizza or something, okay? Go and enjoy yourself before the trial." He didn't mention it, but he saw Joe tense up around Laura, and he wanted to talk to his son about that.

"I just don't want to leave Joe here by himself! Under ordinary circumstances, I'd have no problem, but he's sick and in the hospital and I don't want to leave him alone for one second."

"He won't be by himself," Fenton replied with a smile. "Frank will be here, and you know how he watches Joe."

Laura breathed a sigh of relief. "You're right. Frank won't let anyone come within a hundred yards. I just… How do I tell Joe? I mean, it sounds like, 'I'm sorry you were abused. Gotta go!'"

"Tell him you promised Gertrude something, and you have to fulfill it," Fenton said with a shrug.

Nodding, Laura sighed, and stepped back into Joe's room. "Hey, Mom."

"Hi, Joe," Laura said as sat down, smoothing out her skirt. "Joe, I have to tell you something."

Joe's shoulders tensed, and Fenton glanced up. He wondered how many times Mark Troy had used those words, I have to tell you something. He was going to kill the man who injured his son.

"Go ahead." Looking at his mom with respect, he turned towards her.

"I have to go with Gertrude to visit Aunt Bessie for two days," she said. "It's something I promised Bessie awhile ago. I would back out, but then Gertrude wouldn't even go."

"You can go, Mom," Joe said, inwardly very relieved. He was really embarrassed, and he'd finally figured out why. His mother was a social service worker who gave thousands of speeches a year on "speaking out" about abuse, broken relationships, your own story – and just speaking out in general.

"I just don't want you to feel like I'm leaving you in the lurch," Laura replied with a frown.

"How long will you be gone?" Joe asked. He felt sort-of relieved, but sort-of worried.

"Two or three days," she said, feeling awful about leaving Joe there. She knew Fenton could handle things, but she still felt like she was "leaving Joe in the lurch".

"The trial doesn't even start for two weeks, I'll be fine," Joe said. He hated using the words since he had used them so many times before. He really needed to get on .

"I'll be back before then," Laura promised. She hated leaving Joe here and was only doing this for Bessie. Still, she felt like she was choosing Bessie over Joe. "I'll see you later tonight, okay?"

_Line_

Frank lay facedown on the floor of the car, exhausted. He didn't know how far he had gone. He knew that Mark Troy wasn't supposed to leave the state, so that was a little bit of hope for him until he saw the sign for the next state flash by.

After that, he'd taken a two-hour nap. When he awoke, they were getting gas, and he wanted to scream loudly, but he had already been warned that the coach would go after Joe if he made a single noise.

Now they were back on the road. Frank had no idea for how long. Suddenly, he remembered that his father had put a GPS on his cell phone, and he was relieved until he could tell it wasn't in his pocket. Mark must have tossed it out the window, because Frank knew the man had his own cell phone and wouldn't want to risk being traced.

If only the officer had stepped in, Frank would be with Joe right now, preparing for the upcoming trial. Instead, Frank was in the back of a car, his broken arm getting more and more broken every minute. He was traveling to an unknown destination with a man he feared. And he knew the man could go after Joe next.


	10. Chapter 10

_Since I won't be able to post tommorow, I have today. Enjoy, and please review -- and vote in the forum poll deciding which I should post next!! _

"Frank's been gone for four hours," Fenton said to Chief Collig as he called him. "Has he stopped by there?"

"No, he sure hasn't, Fenton, I'm sorry. Listen, I want you to know that Mark Troy posted a bond, okay? I know I told Frank, but I wanted to make sure you knew."

"I had heard that. Why did they let him post bail at all?"

"They didn't think he could come up with that much money. Neither did I. We'll have to see where he's getting all this money from – and see if we can press other charges."

"Sounds good," Fenton said. "Okay, thanks for calling."

"I'll send someone over to guard Joe's door just in case Mark tries anything," Collig replied. "How's Laura?"

"Just flew off to visit Gertrude's aunt," Fenton replied. "Which is a good thing – I think Joe was feeling a little tense around her."

"You're probbably right. If you need anything, let me know. Con'll be over in awhile."

"Thanks, Collig. Fenton out."

_Line_

Six hours missing

"Frank is missing?" Callie demanded, glaring angrily at Phil, as if for some reason it was his fault. "When? How? Do you have any proof?"

"He's been missing for six hours," Phil said as he dropped on the couch. "They don't know if he was kidnapped yet, as there have been no ransom demands, but everyone's assuming so."

Chan shook his head. Only in the Hardy family could someone be missing for 6 hours and someone would assume that they'd been kidnapped. "Who do they think it is?" he asked, both repulsed and curious.

"They don't think it's Mark Troy. Fenton recently arrested someone in the UN case he worked on, and he thinks that's who did it. He found his fingerprint in the house," Phil said. He had talked to Joe awhile ago. Frank and Phil had a deal: If Frank was ever gone and Joe was in trouble, Phil would be his next guardian. He knew he'd have to go over to the hospital soon.

"Wow," Chet said in disbelief. "The poor Hardy family! How's Laura?"

"She actually left to visit Aunt Bessie," Phil replied. Personally, he was secretly glad. He liked Laura, but the woman worried way too much.

"Wow, I'm surprised she left without saying goodbye to Frank," Vanessa said, shocked.

"She had a plane to catch. Fenton made her get on it. I think he suspected Frank was missing, and didn't want to tell her."

Chan sighed. He felt like this was all his fault. He should've kept his mouth shut. If he had, Frank Hardy never would have been kidnapped. "So we've got Frank kidnapped by someone who he arrested, and Joe in the hospital. What happens next?"

Chet laughed. "You know what's funny? Not that anything's funny, mind you, but this is so ironic. Normally, it's Joe who's missing, and Frank who's in the hospital. That poor kid has been kidnapped more times than I can remember."

_Line_

Frank awoke when he felt himself being pulled out of the car, but he chose to pretend to stay unconscious, so he could get a better grip on where he was. So far, it seemed he was in a remote place. "Wake up," he heard someone say, and a bucket of water was dumped on his head.

_So much for pretending to be asleep._ He opened his eyes, still not making any noise, not even a protest of anger.

"Good, you're up," the coach replied. "And not making a sound. I like that. Anyway, here's the deal. I'm going to go back to Bayport. My wife, Jenny, has been sleeping this whole time. I know this because I drugged her. But anyway, I'm going to say that I was at home, and she will verify that. My friend, Roger – that's not his real name – is going to look after you. You will be locked in a closet, and let out twice a day. You can try and escape all you want, but it won't work."

Frank oofed as Mark threw him on the ground. He wanted to scream and let the world know where he was. But, of course, he couldn't--otherwise the coach would kill Joe. "What do you want with me?" he whispered, even though he was sure he already knew.

Ignoring him. Mark ripped the duct tape off of Frank's hands. "You'll be here until I decide exactly what to do with you. I'll probably lay low until the trial, then take off. Can't afford to be put in jail, no sir. If Joe and the others promise not to testify and all charges are dropped, I'll let you go," he promised. But if they don't, I'll come back, and I'll either kill your or you'll be my prisoner forever. Doesn't that sound fun?" he smiled. "I could make you a great football player – under a new name," he said. "We could be father-son, and I'd be _so_ _proud_ of my only child."

_Later_

"It wasn't the man from the UN. He has made no telephone calls since he was arrested, he had no plan in motion."

"But we got his fingerprint," Fenton protested to Chief Collig. "That doesn't just happen!"

"I know we have his fingerprint, but it was a 9.6 percent match – room for margin error," Chief Collig explained, "so yes, we thought it was him, but it could have been anyone else. We're running it back through the data base now."

"Has anyone contacted Mark yet? He could be involved. I wouldn't put it past him," Fenton growled, still angry at himself for not believing Joe.

"Yes, we had a man on Mark first thing," Chief Collig replied, "and his wife said he was home the whole six hours. Wife's clean as a rock, so he's got a solid alibi."

"This is not good," Fenton stated. "I want to find who has Frank and I'm going to kill him brutally. Sorry, Collig, I didn't mean that like it sounded. It's just that Joe needs Frank right now badly, and he vanished. Joe's not going to want to testify with him gone, and if Joe won't testify, none of the other kids will."

Collig let out a long breath. "I'm not saying I'm a hundred present positive of Mark's alibi. I don't think he's lying, but I don't think he's being all that honest, either," he said, "so I'll be keeping a close eye on him."


	11. Chapter 11

_Hey, everyone. While Frank is kidnapped, this story is rated T, not M. Keep that in mind. :) __Hope ya'll enjoy! Sorry... I know it's not perfect. _

Frank groaned as he felt his arm. It wasn't quite broken yet, but he knew he couldn't count on the full use of it for awhile. Just his luck, too – it was his right arm, the one he would need to escape, or write, or anything else of a helpful nature. Maybe this was a sign he was going to learn to write with both hands. He'd always wanted to do that, ever since he was a child.

Suddenly, the door swung open and Frank glanced up. He didn't recognize the man, so he assumed it was Roger. "Howdy, Pardoner," the man said, "you look like you got you-self stuck in the closet there. Mark said you was my son, Frank."

_I'm not your son. Could someone please explain to me what's going on here? _Frank didn't dare speak, knowing Mark's comand, but Roger seemed to expect a responce.

"What's the matter with your arm?" he asked. When Frank didn't respond, he demanded, "Are you mute or somethin'?"

"N-no sir," Frank stuttered, again remembering Mark's command not to speak. "I think it's broken."

"We'll put it in place," Roger said with a smile, and Frank wondered if Roger knew that Frank was a kidnap victim.

Before Frank could blink, Roger had grabbed his arm – and snapped it in two, which caused Frank to howl in pain. "Oops," Roger said with a grin, "guess I ain't as good at first aid as I thought."

_Yeah, right,_ Frank thought, furious for allowing himself to hope that Roger was a semi-good guy.

"There are some arm braces in the closet," Roger said. "Get one of them on, and you can eat your meal before I go off too work."

Frank found the brace and winced as he slowly put it on. He could tell it was going to be a long time before he returned home again. Mark had already said that if he told anyone about his situation, he'd just kidnap Joe instead, and that was something Frank didn't want.

He slowly maneuvered to the kitchen, holding his limp arm against his body. He said nothing as Roger prepared breakfast: A bowl of oatmeal and two pieces of bacon. It wasn't much, but at least it was something.

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, and Frank glanced up. "Who is that?" Roger asked. Before Frank could get up, he placed Frank's bowl of oatmeal and bacon on the table. "Eat."

When he answered the door, he smiled to find someone from the neighborhood there. "Hi, my name is Tracey," she said. Before she could say anything else, Roger stepped outside to talk with her.

Abandoning his breakfast, Frank looked around for a phone. He found one on the kitchen counter. Roger's cell phone! He was ecstatic. Quickly, he dialed his father's number, knowing if he called 9-1-1 Roger would only make him lie like Mark had made Joe lie so many times before.

"Fenton." His father's voice on the phone. Crisp clear and sure.

"Dad!" Frank breathed, letting out a sigh of relief. "Dad, I was kidnapped by—" before he could say by whom, he was grabbed, the phone was shut off, and Roger hit him in the head. "Mark told you that you couldn't escape, so don't even try," he growled. "Looks like you just abandoned the rest of the breakfast. We'll have to see if there's any supper for you either."

_At least they know I'm kidnapped now,_ Frank thought as he allowed himself to be dragged back in the closet.

_Line_

Joe got on his jeans and hoodie, waiting anxiously for his father to pick him up. They'd finally said he could get out of the hospital, and he was superglad. "Come in," he said, answering the knock on the door.

"Hey, Joe," Phil said, "How's it going? You ready to leave?"

"'Course. Where's Dad?"

"He wants me to pick you up," Phil replied, "and take you to the police station. He's got a lead on Frank."

"I don't like the sound of that," Joe mumbled. "I'll bet you anything Troy did it."

"We don't have any proof. You should see Collig have to calm your dad down. Your dad wants to go and interrogate Mark Troy now, but Collig won't let him."

"Let's get going before he kills someone, then," Joe said with a grimace as a reply. "Dad finally believes me?" he asked.

"Of course," Phil said. "He's kicking himself for cutting you off before." He hesitated, then he finally decided to tell Joe the pact he and Frank had made. He had told Fenton earlier.

_Flashback_

_(Bayport High Cafeteria)_

"_Hey, Phil, where's everyone else?" Frank asked as he sat his tray down._

"_Still in line," Phil replied. "How is the bought lunch treating you?" _

"_If I'm alive afterwards, I'll be lucky," Frank chuckled as he sat down. "Hey, Phil, can I talk to you for a second?"_

"'_Course," Phil said. "You need something?"_

"_Yes and no." Frank hesitated, then said, "You know what happened yesterday, right?"_

"_Yeah. Pretty scary," Phil said. Someone had taken Frank hostage for six hours. During that time, Phil felt like it was his job to calm Joe down until the negotiators could safely get Frank out of there._

"_If anything like that happens again," Frank said, "Whether I'm kidnapped, being held hostage, or killed, I want you to look after Joe."_

"_Me?"_

"_Yes, you! You're the next-closest thing to a brother he's got. I know he's tight with Biff and Biff thinks they're blood brothers, but I still haven't forgotten the time that Biff almost wrecked our case – even though it was by mistake."_

"_Why me?"_

"_You're level-headed, calm, responsible. I trust you more then just about anyone else. Would you please be willing to do that?"_

"_Yes," Phil had replied, "But you'd better not die on me, buster."_

"_Who's dying?" Callie asked, setting her tray down. _

"Wow," Joe whispered, know knowing the full depth of how much Frank cared for him. "You already told Dad?"

"I told him parts," Phil said, "and he knows that I'm going to be keeping a close eye on you. You're stuck with me, buddy."

TWO WEEKS LATER

"I can't testify, Dad!" Joe wailed. "Frank is missing and has been for two weeks! Mark Troy said that he'd kill Frank if I testified!"

"What?" Fenton asked, spinning around. "Repeat that again?"

Joe buried his face and pretended he hadn't said anything. He mumbled something at the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me this two weeks ago?" Fenton roared, crossing his arms. "We could have been looking for Frank!"

"It's always Frank, isn't it? You're so obsessed with Frank because he's perfect!" Joe yelled back. "You know why I stayed in football? To please you! It didn't matter, because Frank always outshined me, but that was the general idea! I'm sorry I didn't tell you – I didn't want killed! Besides, Troy only told me yesterday!"

Fenton's mouth dropped open. He had no idea he was the reason that Joe stayed in football, and he felt guilty. He sighed, shoved the guilt to the side, and called Chief Collig.

Finally, after two weeks, a breakthrough.


	12. Chapter 12

No, they couldn't trace the cell phone; it was anonyomus (sorry-I know I spelled that wrong) and the call didn't last long enough. Poor Frank! thanks for all the lovely reviews, I'll respond when I can! :)

LATER (DURING THE TRIAL)

They had been through the opening statements and all the formalities that usually go along with trials. Even though Frank was still missing, they were going to go ahead and try Mark Troy.

Since he was a suspect in an ongoing investigation, he was taken back to his cell, and his phone privileges were revoked just in case he had anything to do with Frank's disappearance.

Joe watched Daniel on the stands. They thought that having Daniel first would be good, since Daniel had been abused the longest. The abuse was clearly visible on Daniel's body. He had a long, ugly scar on his cheek – evidence of abuse, right there.

Mark Troy's attorney – John Smith – stood first. "So, Daniel, you say that the coach abused you, correct?"

"Yes sir."

"But you never told anyone until Mark was arrested. Why?"

"Well, sir, because I was afraid – and, I'll be totally honest – ashamed. Mark said he would kill anyone I ever cared about if I told."

"So you felt 'safe' with Mark behind bars then?"

"Yes sir," Daniel leaned forward, clearly more confidant now.

"When did Mark start abusing you?"

"When I was in my sophomore year."

"Pardon my asking, but why? I mean, isn't it just a little strange that someone would come out of nowhere and atta—,"

"Overruled – speculation," said the DA, standing up and protesting the attourney's words.

"Agreed, keep it to what you know, Jones."

"What grade are you in now?" Jones asked, staring the teenager straight in the eye, trying to make him flinch.

"Junior," he said, looking the man squarely in the eye.

"How did Mark supposedly abuse you?"

The judge glared at the defense attorney, but he didn't back down.

"He liked to hit me a lot. He made me run a lot of laps... sometimes he made me run fifty laps without water. He locked me in the closet all the time. Occasionally, he'd pull out his belt and tell me 'you deserve a beating.'"

"So the scar on your face – which you claim is from Mark Troy – how did you get it?"

"He grabbed me, threw me on the ground, and cut me with a pair of scissors."

The Defense snorted. "No offence, but that doesn't look like a pair of sci—"

"Jones! Uncalled for. Your time of questioning Daniel is over," the judge hissed. "DA Michael Hanks, residing."

Though it sounded hard to believe, Michael Hanks was one of the best DA's in the country. He'd been hired for this event specifically, since Fenton was terrified of Mark getting back on the street.

"Daniel," Michael said, "I know this is hard for you, so I've only got a few questions."

You could only just barley see Daniel nod.

"Did you realize that others were being abused as well as yourself?"

"Not until Joseph Hardy accused the coach, sir. That's when I felt safe enough to step forward."

_Line_

Three weeks missing

Frank felt around for the closet doorknob. He got so bored in the closet. Recently, Roger had allowed him entry to a bedroom, which had a TV in it. Apparently, Roger had no idea of the ongoing trial that was TV-covered (otherwise Frank was sure he never would've been allowed access). The only reason Roger let him out of the closet was because he had threatened to kill Joe if Frank tried again. Roger had told Frank he was very lucky Fenton didn't trace the phoen call.

His arm still hadn't healed, so he knew it was pointless to try to escape. He'd tried several times before, but Roger had always been nearby, and the last time Frank had tried to escape, he'd threatened to kill Joe if Frank tried again.

What Frank was trying to do was follow the case against Mark Troy. So far it looked like the DA – someone named Michael Hanks? – was winning. It was amazing. A total of five kids had stepped out and said, "Yes, the coach is abusing me", all because Joe stepped forward and said something.

What a rippling effect!

Luckily for him, he flipped it on during the middle of a telivision news program, and it was talking about it. "The case against Mark Troy is going smoothly, at least according to Michael Hanks. I'm sure you all know the story by now – five boys abused by one coach. Here's Brianna to tell you more."

Brianna flashed on the scene, and Frank smiled. She looked familiar. "I'm standing outside the courthouse building right now where Mark Troy is being tried. The biggest concern in the case is not whether or not Mark Troy will be convicted, but if he'll be convicted of kidnapping – or murder."

The scene faded to one of those pre-recorded news things, and Frank wondered mildly if it was about him.

"Sixteen year old Franklin Hardy – the one who originally found his brother and was the first to suspect the ongoing to abuse – went missing three weeks ago. Even though the Bayport police department worked endlessly, they didn't come up with a lead until Mark Troy threatened to kill Frank Hardy if Joe testified. Well the trial is continuing, everyone who is testifying is under protective custody."

Frank had to chuckle at that. He knew how much Joe hated protective custody.

"On the first day of the trial, the police examined Mark's car and found blood in the rear end of the car – Frank Hardy's blood. Though there is much help that Frank is alive, the evidence is all pointing otherwise."

The news flashed back to Brianna. "However, since that was recorded, we have learned that Frank Hardy is indeed alive. It looks like Mark will be convicted on all counts of child abuse. When Frank Hardy is found, Mark Troy will be arrested and tried for another count of kidnapping to be added onto his sentenced. Anyone who has information about Frank Hardy is asked to call your local police."

"Thanks, Brianna," the news anchor said. "We got a chance to talk to Michael the other day, and he says he calls this a rippling affect."

"Sometimes kids will step forward about abuse, bullying, and other issues if one person steps forward first – and is believed," Michael said. "We call this a rippling affect."

Frank smiled. There was that word again.

"The trial is supposed to go to jury in two days. In other news…."

_Line_

TWO DAYS LATER

"I hate waiting!" Joe wailed as he entered the door of the protective custody apartment. "Sam, are you sure that they'll call us when they've decided?"

"They promised, Joe. Eat your chili," Sam said with a mock sigh.

"You don't get it. I'm terrified. If Mark gets out, he's going to kill Frank," Joe explained, trying to calm himself down. It wasn't working – the wait was still killing him. "But if he gets convicted, all his telephone and visitor privileges are rebuked until Frank's found."

"If he's kept Frank alive for this long, I don't think he's going to kill him, Joe. Relax, eat your chili, the jury should be out soon."

Chan sighed as he watched Joe pace back and forth. Everyone testifying against Mark had to be placed in protective custody. It had been hard, being away from his parents, but it was worth it to be kept safe.

It was a very spacious house within the Bayport city limits. In all actuality, it was very convenient, because they were under protective custody and they were close to where the trial was being kept.

Finally tired of pacing, Joe plopped down in the chair next to Chan. "I'm about ready to go to bed," he mumbled.

"No wonder," Chan said, "you were pacing for almost an hour."

"Nervous energy," Daniel replied. "You should see me doing that -- I did it nearly two hours before the coach's trial began."

"I can walk, like, a hundred and five miles," Aerie Walks said, "and oftentimes, I still get tired." The coach – for whatever reason – loved to make Aerie run. Aerie speculated it was because his legs were long and he had a solid running balance. It was speculated that he could possibly run in the Olympics, if he wanted too. "Especially when I pace – for an hour!"

Chassis Tran snorted. He had been the most secretive about what he had been through, mostly because his parents were actively involved in many ongoing town events, and because his father was governor of the town. "Does anyone know when they will reconvene?"

"It's anyone's guess," Joe admitted, shifting his leg, trying to make it more comfortable. "Sometimes, it's a long time. One case my dad worked involved someone who murdered a guy. They took almost two weeks to decide if the dude was guilty or not. He ended up being guilty."

"Good sign or bad sign?" Daniel asked.

"Good, let's hope," Joe replied. He got up, muttering something about the leg cramps. "Anyone want some soda?"

"Save it for later, boys," Sam said before anyone could raise their hand. It had been only three hours since the court hearing, and already the jury had reached a verdict. "We've got to go. It's time for the hearing."


	13. Chapter 13

Hey, everyone! Wow! Thanks for the awesome responce. Look, I need you all to go over to my page and click on the link that says vote now. All you have to do is check the box for which story you want! It is important to do it _this time_ as you will not get another reminder! This is your last chance, because I'm posting the last chapter either Monday or Thursday--and the final vote will be decided then. So far, "Just A Little Love" is winning, but can "A Tale Of Two Brothers" pull it out? Thanks so much for _everything._

Midst Ride

_Line_

"Will the defense please stand?" Joe was a nervous wreck when he heard those words. They were only seconds away from finding out the jury's verdict. Only seconds, really, in his opinion, from finding out whether or not there was any hope Frank would be alive.

Mark Troy stood, and Daniel visibly flinched. Aerie was fingering his scar. Joe wanted to get up and pace, but a direct look from Chan told him it wasn't a good idea.

"On the count of abusing Daniel, how does the jury find Mark Troy?"

"Guilty, your honor."

"On the count of abusing Aerie Walks, how does the jury find Mark Troy?"

"Guilty, your honor."

"On the count of abusing Chan Tyi, how does the jury find Mark Troy?"

"Guilty, your honor."

"On the account of abusing Chassis, how does the jury find Mark Troy?"

"Guilty, your honor."

"On the account of abusing Joseph Hardy, how does the jury find Mark Troy?"

The juryman hesitated one second before responding. "Guilty, your honor."

Joe wanted to dance and cheer. Instead, he breathed a sigh of relief and threw his arms around Chan. "We did it," he whispered in his ear, "We really, really did it!"

"…Sentencing for Mark will be on Tuesday. Mark Troy, your phone privileges will be revoked, and you will be taken to the jail sell to begin your sentencing. Joseph Hardy, I'd like to see you. Court dismissed."

Joe slunk up to the desk, feeling uneasy. What could he have possibly done wrong? "Yes, your honor?"

"Relax," the judge said, "I'm not here to intimidate you or to demand something from you. You did a good thing here, Joe. Never, never be afraid to tell if someone is hurting you, no matter what they say. In fact, you -- or any of the boys – can come straight to me if there's a problem."

"Thanks," Joe said, breathing a huge sigh of relief. "Thank you, sir."

"Joe!" Fenton Hardy yelled, racing into the courtroom, from which he had only exited seconds earlier. "Joe! Joe! Come quick – we need to go to the hospital! They found Frank! Come on, Joe! They found Frank!"

_Earlier_

Frank was holding his arm in pain as he stepped outside. He was exited – the trial was finally over, and Mark Troy was arrested. However, he was unsure about his future, since he knew Roger would easily make good on his threat to kill Joe, and he didn't know if his father could find him in the remote town Roger had taken him too.

"Hey, Frank," one of the neighbors said. Was it Tim… or Rick? He couldn't remember anyone's name. Not that it mattered. "How are you today?"

"Good, thanks, you?"

"I'm great. Listen, tell your dad if he wants to play golf with me, the offer's still open, okay?"

"Yeah," Frank said, "I will. No problem." He turned around in defeat, ready to go back inside. Before he could, though, he heard Roger's harsh voice of anger.

"This is all your fault!" Roger yelled, his face red with anger. "Mark got convicted, Frank! You're going to pay for this!"

Before Frank could do anything, he felt himself being pushed into the wall, and he bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain.

"You are a liar!" Roger yelled, and Frank glanced over, trying to see if the neighbor was still out. He couldn't see Tim/Rick anywhere, so he guessed not. Roger slammed him into the wall again, and Frank's already-broken arm felt like it was on fire.

"Hey!" the neighbor said, coming back over. Frank could see from his nametag that his name was Rick. "Get your hands off that kid!"

"He's my son," Roger spat, "and I can do whatever I want! Get the hell out of here!"

Rick must have ripped open his cell phone in those seconds Frank had seen him disappear, because within a minute, two cop cars had arrived. "What's going on here, sir?"

"Tell this neighbor of mine…" Roger spat on the ground again, "to leave me and my son alone!"

"What happened, Rick?" the officer said, eyeing the man's nametag.

"I was coming home from work – stopped by to say hi and to extend my invitation to a golf meeting. I started to walk back to my apartment, and I heard something, so I spun around, and I saw Roger throw Frank into the wall."

"Hold on, hold on," the officer said, stopping him. "Frank? As in Frank Hardy?"

Frank glanced worriedly at Roger, but the man didn't say anything, he just stared at Frank.

Taking a deep breath, Frank prayed for courage to come and come quickly. "Y-yes, s-sir." He almost started crying. "Y-yes, sir. I'm F-Frank Hardy."


	14. Chapter 14

Hey, everyone. The votes of my stories have been tallied. I believe that Just A Little Love will be the next book posted. Thanks so much. Please check it out. Thanks for voting.

I added this in since I wrote the first fic. I felt like the old fic was missing "something" and I realized I never had Fenton hadn't reconciled with Joe. So I was like, "Duh, add the scene!"

Thank you all for your **amazing **support. Please check out my next story, which will be posted very quickly after I post this chapter! Joe angst in there, too :).

_Mdist Ride_

Fenton sighed as he sat down next to Joe, who was waiting for Frank to arrive in the hospital. "Joe," he began, slowly, "I wanted to say I apologize."

Joe glanced up. "Apologize?"

"Yes. You said it was of me that you stayed in football. I just wanted to say I'm sorry," Fenton said. "I had no idea that you stayed in there because of me. Joe, Chan told me that you tried to tell me about the abuse, but you kept it secret after I didn't believe you. I'm sorry, Joe. I was uspet with Frank because he'd been muttering stuff about Troy all day, and I was already angry becuase I'd messed up one of my cases. I know that's no exscuse, but my anger was not at you. I should have believed you, or at least given you a chance to speak. And for that, Joe, I am so sorry. I am so sorry."

Indeed, Joe could see his father was sorry; tears ran down his father's face. Joe couldn't help it, tears started to fall down his face, too. "It's okay, Dad, I forgive you, it's okay, I forgive you."

_LATER_

"I was terrified when the police got there," Frank admitted, looking up at Joe. It was strange not to see Joe in the hospital bed next to him. "I didn't know if it was some setup between Roger in the neighbor, or what. Luckily, it wasn't, and they got me out of there, and arrested Roger on kidnapping, the neighbor dude stayed with me until you guys got here."

"Yeah, we saw Rick," Joe said, "And he gave you his e-mail address in case you ever need anything."

"Seemed like a cool guy," Frank commented, "but I don't know that I'd ever go to him for help. I'm pretty sure he saw me get shoved around before. I tried to escape a lot, mostly because I knew Mark was using me to threaten you. It didn't work, though; Roger just said he'd kill you – and I knew he would keep his promise."

Joe nodded. "Yeah, Roger seems kind-of creepy."

"He basically left me alone a lot, I had a lot of time to think. I didn't try and escape the first couple of days because I could barley move my arm."

"We're just lucky it didn't heal wrong," Joe said with a grimace.

"Don't know if it would have or not, but you're right. He made me wear a brace the whole time, so I guess he wanted to make things look legit," Frank said. "You know, I really missed you, bro."

"I missed you too, Frank. I was terrified. I really didn't want to go through with the trial. The only reason I did was because if I backed down, so would everyone else, and then Mark would be free – and I couldn't allow that to happen, because he said the second he was free he was going to kill you."

Frank nodded. "I'm so glad you went through--Mark would have killed me the second that he got out. So thank you." He paused. "When's Dad going to get here?"

"Very soon. He said something about some surprise or something," Joe said. He knew exactly what it was, but wasn't saying anything.

"Knock, knock," Fenton's voice said, and Joe threw open the door.

"Surprise, Frank!" Callie said, lowering the birthday cake to Frank's level.

"Oh my gosh," Frank burst, "I can't believe that it's my birthday—and I totally forgot!"

"Yeah, your 17th one, too," Joe commented.

"I wish we could have had more of a party, but we didn't have a lot of time to get things planned," Callie said sheepishly. "But hey, come on in, guys!"

Everyone stepped in, including the rest of the people who had helped with Joe's case – even the attorney, Mark Hanks.

"That's okay," Frank said. "I've got everything I need, right here."


End file.
